Blood is blood
by Crossing Skies
Summary: After being catch by the Governor, Daryl meet his older brother, Merle, again. The inhabitants of Woodbury clamour for seeing their spilled blood in the zombie coliseum, the blood of the last Dixons in the world. Oneshot located after Made to suffer.


**Hi, it's my first try to write in English. Thanks to peperina to check the story and help me with everything. You're so cool! **

**Any opinion is good welcome 'cause it help me to improve my writing. Luck for everyone.**

**Brofist!**

Damn, anyone but him. ¡Damn, anyone but him! Merle roared mentally when the Governor pushed a man, who had his head covered, beside him to the center of the zombie coliseum. He breathed deeply, staring at the people that were around them, they were old comrades, now pointing at him with their weapons. Some of them didn't cloak the satisfaction that they felt to see him there. Merle wrinkled his nose in a sign of anger. He turned back to the man against whom the Governor was ranting. He was moving nervous for not knowing what was happening. Merle felt a knot in his chest when he recognized the man's clothes and his constitution.

The Governor removed the sack that covered his head. Daryl looked around, confused, squinted due to the light that dazzled him. He was cursing himself for letting them catch him while he had fall into an ambush when he was looking for Merle. Four men had fallen over him before he could react. His eyes flew open when he saw his older brother there, glancing him with an expression hard to decipher, hiding his feelings as better as he knew. Daryl twirled his head, they were surrounded by armed men and people who wanted to see their heads separated from their bodies. He regarded Merle again, clenching his jaw. Daryl tried to get rid of the string that tied up his hands but it was well tied. He winced when the rope hurt his irritated wrists.

Merle could swear he felt all his blood frozen when the Governor removed the bag that covered Daryl's face. His incompetent younger brother had sent everything to hell and now they both were in danger. The rage against those who cried for their deaths grew in his chest. He hated them for having laid a trap to him and took his weapons. He hated them for bringing his younger brother to that damn circle. He hated them even more, when six men got closer to them, steering half-dozen walkers. Merle smelled foul, rotten scent before he saw the corps. Every walker had snagged clothes, rotting flesh and emitted guttural groans. Its bones were exposed where they lacked flesh and its clothes still stained with blood, perhaps theirs or their victims' blood. Merle felt he was about to retch but he sealed his lips avoiding vomiting there.

Then he looked at Daryl, expressionless, without showing the terror that filled his veins. Terror? Who said terror? Damn, he was Merle Dixon, the man who was never afraid. Better to say it was the adrenaline which ran through his veins and what made his ears whistled with each heartbeat. He never admitted it, but he didn't fear for his physical integrity, he wasn't a bit worried about himself. He was worried about Darleena and hated himself for being unable to move any muscle, for being so emotional when he had always teased Daryl because of this.

The chains that held the walkers were tied to the stone benches that surrounded the two men. Both brothers ended up together in the middle of the circle, back to back. Zombies were snarling with their arms extended towards them, at least those who still had some arms. People clamored for brothers' blood. Worse than the same walkers, their cries were lost in an incomprehensible yell. They were waiting to amuse themselves with their deaths. The Governor glanced serious at the brothers and Merle's hair stood on end. He knew the Governor, he knew how damn cruel the Governor could be. His remaining eye was fixed on his old lieutenant. Both men exchanged a long stare, expressing their hatred.

Daryl moved against the back of his older brother, seeking for an escape, any. If only he had a gun or his hands untied. He didn't understand too well what was happening or what was the place where he was, but the dark patches in the sand didn't augur anything well. Daryl coughed by the penetrating smell of death around him. Damn walkers and damn the scent of hell they had.

He moved to the left when the chain of the walker that was on his right had stretched out suspiciously. He did not realize that all chains had elongated and fell over the Zombie that was on his left.

Merle did not move, knowing that the biter that was before his eyes didn't reach him, even though the biter took two steps forward. He noticed Daryl moving fast against his back. Too fast. He looked to his right. All the air he kept in his lungs hurriedly left his body when he saw the walker's jaw closing over his younger brother' shoulder. With a sudden movement, he took the corpse's neck and pulled back hard. He hit it and hung its head in an unnatural way by the impact and level of decomposition. People shouted excited for the immediate action. Merle felt disgusted at that.

Daryl backed up onto his back to move away from the walker. A cold sweat covered his body; he breathed rapidly trying to curb the urge to vomit that overwhelmed him. He looked at his shoulder expecting to find the mark of the Zombie jaw or a deep wound. He had not felt the teeth biting his skin but part of his shirt had been torned. His older brother knelt beside him and wiped the black and smelly blood he had on the shoulder. Under the clothes, there was no wound. Both brothers sighed with relief and exchanged glances. Now that they had met again, would they die? _We'll end as we started this, together_, Daryl thought.

"Who wants some action?" shouted one of governor' soldiers. People chanted enthusiastically asking for blood.

Merle helped his brother up, it was impossible that he could make it alone with his hands tied. Again, they were back to back with the apocalyptic world against them. Woodbury's people's faces only showed anger and hatred, masks of the fear that they had. Daryl swallowed hard and felt sand particles trying to go down inside his throat, scratching his larynx.

Suddenly, the motion of a hand over his own, distracted Daryl.

"Stay still, cover me" his brother said hoarsely.

Daryl looked around, really attentive to what was happening behind him. He met the gaze of the Governor. He had expected to see some expression, at least taste for the entertainment but his face was impenetrable. The seriousness covered his eye like a shadow and seemed to be very irritated. If there was something that frustrates Daryl, it was the confusion for not knowing what someone wanted. Something cold touched his hands. He did not move but that was the typical coldness of a knife.

"Come on, we want blood!" someone in the audience shouted.

The chains that holded walkers were picked up, forcing the Zombies to back off. Then two men entered in the circle. The first was huge and had a hairy body, physically resembled a bear with a stupid smile on his face. He took off his shirt as he approached the two brothers. Daryl snorted, he faced with guys like that before and the worst thing of them was the brute force they had, staying away and hit in bursts was the best, but now there was a little space in which he could move. The second was a scrub, but the muscles in his arms were marked without a pinch of fat, hardened in a thousand fights. Merle recognized them. He had fought with both men during a binge. He didn't remember Bearman really well, as alcohol dropped him before the game heat up but Littleman hit hard and was accurate.

Both men were placed in front of the Dixons. Bearman smiled and cracked all his fingers. _Moron_, Merle thought. Littleman jumped several times. He raised his hands and the crowd cheered encouraging their favorites.

"Let's see what you can do, rednecks" Littleman insulted them getting on guard in front of Merle "You don't know the urges I had to kick your ass"

"Another day, bitch. I hadn't planned to receive a blow by a bastard" the man spat him angrily. He was just a stupid slicker who believed that he was the best.

Daryl glanced into the Bearman's eyes and Bearman smiled at him, showing that he had lost several teeth. He raised an eyebrow at the disgusting sight of two yellow teeth that threatening to rot for the lack of hygiene. The four men expected the other to hit first.

Bearman pulled a wry face due to the waiting. The crowd began to get bored. Soldiers hit the walkers trying to infuriate its and have an enjoyable show. A fist came forward, catching off guard Daryl. He ducked in time to avoid it and the punch spent brushing the hair on his crown. He spread his hands to prevent the fall and found that he wasn't tied. The remains of cut rope still hanging from his wrists. Due to the speed of the attack, Daryl could not recover and the Bearman caught him on the floor.

Beside Daryl, Merle had been watching the big guy. He put that face of ... psychopath, as he knew that there would be a bloodbath. As driven by a spring, he saw Bearman lean forward to deal his fist against his younger brother. During the attack, Littleman swerved to the right to catch Merle off guard by the flank. Merle moved with the speed that only the fights give, collided with the Bearman's shoulder, causing him to deviate, and forward his hand holding the knife that he always carried hidden in the prosthesis. Nobody knew about its existence, thanks to Dixon mistrust inherited of some dead ancestor, but its size was not liked by Merle. More seemed a kitchen knife than to a real knife. Merle broke the advance of Littleman and cut his forearm with the knife. He shot a hook with the prosthesis in the jaw and felt crunched it under the force of the blow. The Littleman grabbed his sore jaw and Merle took the advantage to give him a kick in the side that made him fell back near one of the zombies. The corpse threw himself over Littleman but the soldiers held the walker for him to escape. Merle ran towards him and fired an elbow against the back of the damn fool who had dared to insult him. Him! Merle fucking Dixon! Littleman didn't know whom he had insulted. The older brother stared satisfied to Littleman who was squirming because of the pain.

Daryl was having more problems with Bearman. He had dodged the punch but when Merle hit the man, Bearman fell over him. Daryl assaulted the side of the man with his fists. Daryl couldn't breathe with Bearman's weight on his chest. He hit him in the neck with the edge of the hand and the man rolled to escape. Daryl got up but when he stood on his left foot he felt a sharp pain and jumped to the right. Bearman got up, wiping his face after eating dust. Behind his immense body, Daryl saw his older brother charging at Littleman.

"Come on, asshole. Let's see if you not stumble this time" Daryl emboldened putting on guard.

"I'm going to make a nice necklace with your teeth" Bearman roared.

Just as he had learned. Side face to the attacker, his arms raised over his face, a little lower than his eyes, to see the man. The only problem were the punctures coming up his left leg. He hoped it wasn't anything serious. Damn it. Bastard. The fall had really damaged his ankle. Bearman lunged forward, Daryl dodged effortlessly. There had been way too many years boxing in his neighborhood against friends and not so friends, against Merle. The man couldn't touch him. He would leave Bearman got tired before hit him.

The people of the audience cheered when Littleman scuttled of Merle's arms and applied a wrench in his legs to bring him down. Merle beat his face on the ground and could swear he heard how a tooth broke. Littleman jumped over him and scuffled for possession of the knife. With a sudden movement Merle got up, pulling back Littleman. He spat on the floor and red liquid stained the sand. He moved his tongue against the gum to found a broken molar and noticing he had lost a canine tooth. Hell. Littleman appeared before him wielding the knife. He quickly passed it from one hand to the other under Merle's irritated glance. He was damn persistent. Both men waited to regain some breath before attacking. Merle didn't know how things were going with Daryl, but by the sounds they made, Bearman was tired. His breathing was like a mid-damaged tractor. Littleman jumped forward trying to reach him but he ducked and hit him on the hand that was holding the knife. He wiped the blood that went down his chin and neck. Walkers who were close moaned chillingly at the smell of Merle's blood. The public complained that their favorites were losing. Merle kicked Littleman's ass and threw it against the nearest zombie. It gripped and bit the man's back. His piercing screams scared everyone who watched the fight. Those fools had forgotten how dangerous walkers could be. Two soldiers took Littleman off the circle rapidly, snatching him from the biter. There was no sign of bite but his clothes had torn by the side against the pressure of the walker's rotting fingers. The walker followed his prey bringing new cries of terror when it exited the circle. Merle turned with a smile of satisfaction to the Governor. If he thought it would be easy to end with them, he had been wrong. They would sell dearly their lives. Merle's satisfaction grew after seeing the frustration on Governor's face. The euphoria caused by see the governor pissed off, flooded Merle's brain.

Daryl dodged Bearman's forehand. He smiled when he saw him red by the effort. He stepped forward, moving right and left avoiding two new blows. He moved with speed and struck his torso, above the floating ribs. He felt them split under the force of the blows. Then, Daryl drove back to retrieve a safe distance, stepped wrong and a stabbing pain ran down his left leg. It was as if suddenly it had transformed into plasticize and could not support his weight. He stumbled but regained his balance on the right foot. Bearman jumped forward, noting Daryl's fragile position. Merle intercepted him and plunged two fingers in his broken ribs. Bearman screamed by the pain and tried to run away but the older brother caught him with a chokehold.

People screamed, stressed by the change of roles that was occurring. They didn't like the situation at all, while Merle was enjoying the fighting and Daryl was venting his fury against Bearman's torso. At the same time he developed an escape plan. The big man recovered part of his self-control and kicked Daryl's left leg, knowing it was hurt. Daryl lost support due to the unexpected attack and fell on his knees. Bearman dealt a kick direct to his face and he covered with his arm just before he was hit and leaned to the right so that the impact was lower.

Merle squeezed his arms and tried to catch Bearman's neck. The man dealt a header on his face. Merle stepped back grabbing his nose. Now the blood went down staining all his clothes. He wiped his face with the hand, trying to get rid of the blood that covered his eyes. Then he received another blow in the temple and fell to the ground.

"Damn it. Try with someone of your own size" Daryl screamed really pissed. He was hurt and the blood pounded in each bruise of his skin. He couldn't spit out the sand from his mouth and it bothered him. A trickle of blood was dripping from his right ear causing a tingling in his neck.

"Really?" Bearman seemed amused. He was bigger than Daryl. Two deep bruises were formed in his torso, highlighting where the ribs were broken. One of them stood out by the side, marking under the skin.

Both men knew that they were hurt, and also knew the places that ached more of his opponent. Daryl spat on the floor. Bearman took a deep breath recovering some breath, but choked due to the smell of death and rotting of the walkers. Daryl seized upon the moment to attack again. The man expected the blow and used his strength against the younger brother. He grabbed his wrist and put his arm on Daryl's shoulder. He made a hold and threw Daryl over his body. The man flew and ended hitting one of the walkers that were close to the Governor.

Merle threw against Bearman as he went to his younger brother, who was fighting against the biter. They both grabbed each other's neck and squeezed, trying to strangle the other before their lungs ask for oxygen. Merle's eyes itched much and he could not see well. The man had thrown him sand before grabbing him. Merle struggled and started to feel a pressure in the chest. He felt he couldn't breathe, not even opening his mouth. His ears were ringing from the pressure. From the corner of his eye he saw a lot of movement in the area near the Governor. With the last strength he had he pushed Bearman against two walkers. They grabbed him and put him up its fingers and jaws. Bearman screamed terrified but everyone seemed distracted so the soldiers didn't help him. Merle looked at the direction that everyone pointed.

Daryl had got rid of the walker with a header. His forehead dented the walkers' and heard the distinctive "crack" of a bone breaking. Felt disgust immediately, especially when dark blood filled his face, neck and clothing. Taking advantage of that everyone seemed more attentive to the fight between Merle and Bearman, Daryl stood up quickly and assaulted a clueless soldier. He hit him and snatched the gun that held on his waist. He grabbed his neck and placed the soldier in front of his body to protect himself from a possible shooting. He turned and pointed to the Governor's temple.

Merle watched marveled to his younger brother. So many years trying to mold him in his own image appeared to have finally been successful. He found himself smiling at the rashness, cunning and coolness of Daryl's gaze. Then he heard a click on his left ear. He turned his head slightly and found the barrel of a gun pointed at his temple. The smile didn't disappear from his face. At the same time, a man held Daryl by the hair and pressed a knife against his neck. Daryl did not loosen his grip on the gun. His knuckles were white from the force he did. Merle realized something; they were fucked.

They were caught by the guts. And Dixons were holding the Governor's. Who would squeeze first?


End file.
